


lighting up the hall

by wrack



Series: Endless Days [4]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Bittersweet, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Food, Osiris makes a cameo at the end, Pictures Taken Seconds Before Romantic Disaster, Titans are BIG, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:27:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29821470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrack/pseuds/wrack
Summary: Crow's first morning on HELM duty could have gone worse.
Relationships: Female Guardian/Crow
Series: Endless Days [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2013730
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22





	lighting up the hall

“This is a terrible idea,” Glint muttered, drawing his flaps in tight as he drifted away up the stairs. He tried to project the same air of faint disapproval into their bond, but try as he might, there was no hiding the tail-end of his loudest thought: _I can’t say I disapprove._ Crow smiled to himself, felt the fabric of his mask stretch a little to accommodate it. When he tilted his chin up to look at Rue, she was smiling too.

“Go on, if you’re still curious,” she said. “Roj and Glint have all the entrances covered.” It was true; Crow could feel the net of attention his Ghost had cast, wide enough to take in the entire room at a glance. “And nobody’s going to see past me.”

That was also true. Even out of armour, she towered over him by more than a head; wearing full gear, she was tall enough to block out the light. Her shoulder pauldrons alone took up a huge chunk of the corridor. It was an uphill battle not to think about how easy it would be for her to box him in, just put her hands on either side of his head and hold him there with the sheer weight of her presence. Once, that thought would have filled him with fear. The token she had given him felt hotter than usual against his skin.

His mouth was a little dry when he said, “I’m still curious.” He’d meant it to sound teasing, but it wasn’t quite steady enough to convince. Acutely aware that they were running low on time, he took one of the flaky pastries between thumb and forefinger. The part of him that had never left Spider's safehouse wanted to grab a handful and stash them away before anyone saw, but he resisted the urge. In one swift gesture – swift and smooth, he hoped – he pulled the mask off and popped the tiny parcel in his mouth.

When he bit down, a heady sweetness exploded across his tongue. Underneath the delicate pastry, there was a sharp, nutty crunch. He swallowed it as fast as he could without choking, almost afraid to let himself savour it too much. With Rue's eyes intent upon him, he couldn't keep from licking his lips. “What’s that flavour? Not the honey, the – the flowery one?”

“Rosewater.” Her eyes shone. He had never expected to see that kind of delight in response to his enjoyment from anyone but Glint. “You like it? There should be more, but we’re going through a shortage.”

Despite knowing what the answer would be, loyalty compelled Crow to ask: “Did you make these?”

“Oh, no. The ground-level Tower bazaar did.” From the face she made, he guessed she knew full well it had been a polite question. “You wouldn’t want to taste my paklawa. I’m not sure even Glint could bring you back from that.”

“There are worse ways to go,” he said, raising an eyebrow at her. One significant downside of the mask was that it rendered the single-eyebrow trick useless. “I'd be willing to try it.”

For a brief, gratifying moment, she was speechless. Then she snorted and took a small, cautious step toward him, clearly not wanting to back him into the wall. The bag of pastries dematerialised from her hand. “Okay. Before I say or do anything, I need to know if you meant that to sound as suggestive as it did.”

Boldness had served him well in the past. He met her halfway, stepping into the circle of heat she projected as if it were his natural home. “What do you think?”

“I think this place is about to start filling up with people,” she said, each word a warm flutter of air against his forehead, “and we'd better make ourselves presentable soon.”

“We are presentable,” he murmured, turning his face up a little. That was all it took. Rue bent her head and brushed her mouth across his, as light as a feather settling on the surface of a pond. He chased her when she made as if to pull back, standing on tiptoe to catch her lips again. In a flash of daring, he hooked a steadying finger through the top loop of her mark. Tugging at it wasn't enough to sway her – he might as well have tried to flip a tank - but it won him a soft sigh and a rough, ungloved hand cradling his cheek. He leaned into the touch, closing his eyes as she ran a thumb up his cheekbone. More often than not, she handled him as if he were a fragile relic she was afraid of dropping. The novelty of a touch like that had dizzied him in the beginning, but part of him wished she wouldn't always be so gentle. He had seen what those hands were capable of and still found no reason to fear them. Why would he, when he knew with absolute certainty that their power would never be turned against him?

Her Light was less guarded. The armour frustrated any and all attempts to get closer to her, but he could feel the solar fire beneath her skin rear up to meet his own. It took a very different shape to his; running closer to the bone, woven tight around her muscles. When he hooked a leg around hers to pull her closer, it leapt out at him unpredictably. He froze, hands going still where they rested on her lower back. For a full heartbeat, all he could think about was the hammer she wore at her hip.

Rue drew back a little, frowning down at him. “Are you all right?”

He said the first true thing that came to mind. “I’m holding the barrel of your gun.”

That shadow of worry was still there in her eyes, but she grinned at him. “I get it now. This is all part of a cunning plot to steal Vigilance Wing, isn’t it?”

“Oh, no,” Crow said, deadpan. “When will you stop foiling my evil plans?”

Before he even got to the end of the sentence, he knew he'd stepped on yet another mine. She didn't flinch, but he could see the distance growing in her eyes. Frustration warred with sadness in his mind; the combination had him far too close to spitting out a remark he'd regret later. He could see her making a conscious effort to return to the HELM, shaking off whatever memory held her in its grasp. She blinked, then gave him a disarmingly open smile. “Well, there’s an easy counter for this one.” And she laced her fingers through his.

Her hands were always so warm. Crow longed to tug her closer and kiss her again, but he was afraid to do anything that might shatter the fragile moment. This state of affairs couldn't last. Surely there would come a day when the last few lingering shadows between them lifted. The simple, inexplicable sense of joy and comfort they'd found in each other's presence - that would be enough. It was enough. It had to be enough.

When Rue gently extricated one of her hands from his, he felt a flicker of uncertainty that threatened to turn into fear. But she didn't pull away. Instead, she touched the chain around his neck, fingers lingering there for a second. “I'm glad you're wearing this.”

She might have said more, but then her Ghost appeared next to her head in a burst of light and hissed, “Saladin!”

As if primed to respond to the name, Rue sprang into action. Her gauntlets shimmered back into existence, taking ornate shape around her fists. She hurried away up the steps, obviously expecting him to join her. The only concession she made was a wry, half-apologetic grin as she glanced back at him. Before he even made it to the bottom step, Glint snatched the mask out of his hands and transmatted it directly back onto his face. When he reached the head of the stairs, he found her standing at parade rest. After they'd first met, it had taken him a while to realise the wolves on her armour were more than mere ornamentation. This side of her had been almost invisible while they were on the hunt together: no longer just Rue Berwari, the first Lightbearer to stay her hand after seeing his face, but the much-feted Young Wolf. _Lady_ Rue. He'd teased her about outranking him before; she'd gone very still for a moment before treating him to a lecture on why Guardians had ceased to use such titles outside of ceremonial contexts. The memory made him smile.

To his minor annoyance, he realised he'd taken up a position on the other side of the door without even thinking about it. He weighed the merits of stepping off-centre, just so he couldn't be said to have fallen in line at the first hint of rank. _Don't,_ Glint suggested. It was too late, in any case. By the time the thought crossed his mind, Lord Saladin had already arrived.

It was Crow's first time seeing him in the flesh. His initial impression was that the armour looked much glossier in person than it did over a comm relay; that, or Saladin had polished it up specifically for the purposes of this visit. It was very much like a grander version of the set Rue favoured, right down to the smallest motifs. Saladin himself was more difficult to get a read on. Just looking at him gave Crow the impression of tremendous age. There was a heaviness about his shoulders, as if he were trying to bear up under great pressure. Knowing what he did about the history of the Iron Lords, Crow supposed he was. His gaze encompassed both of them. Crow's discomfort sparked higher, and he resisted the urge to shift from foot to foot. Did Saladin have an idea what they'd been up to? His long lifespan might have made him more observant – or perhaps it had done the opposite, leaving him mired in memory instead of focusing on the present.

In his peripheral vision, he saw Rue execute a shallow bow. The gesture seemed habitual, as if she had done it many times before. When she straightened up, she kept one fist clenched over her heart for a second. Every part of Crow rebelled at the idea of following suit, regardless of what protocol or his own rising fear might urge him to do. Hadn't he spent enough time bowing and scraping just to survive? Besides, she or Osiris would have told him if it were expected. He split the difference by inclining his head instead. There was no visible reaction from Saladin.

“At ease, Lady Rue.” She relaxed. In any other circumstance, Crow would have shot her a sideways grin. As it was, he couldn't even move. Even at a distance, the stormy brilliance of Saladin's age-tempered Light was difficult to bear. It took him back to the wilderness, to loud, mocking voices and the sensation of heat licking over his skin. “Guardian Crow.” The title was like a dash of cold water in his face. “How are you settling in?”

He could feel Glint at work in the background, adjusting his adrenaline and cortisol levels downward. It helped, but only a little. His reply came out sharper than he'd intended it to. “Well enough.”

The creases around Saladin's eyes deepened. Crow couldn’t help but feel he’d already been judged and found wanting. In wondering what it meant for Rue to be the Young Wolf, he had failed to consider what it meant for her to be _Saladin’s_ Young Wolf. They were next of kin, as Guardians reckoned it. It wasn’t quite as nerve-wracking as meeting her second had been – he got the sense anyone Tal didn’t like would be ejected from Rue’s life without notice – but it came close.

Glint stirred, both in the air and inside Crow's mind.  _We can fix this._

_You mean_ you _could,_ Crow returned. The sense of resignation he felt seeping into their bond didn't sway him. Glint's charm might be able to turn the tide of bad first impressions, but nothing Rue had told him about Saladin made him think they'd get along. If they were going to clash anyway, they might as well jump right in.

As exasperated as Saladin clearly was, he didn't seem inclined to argue just then. “Come with me. Osiris is on his way.” His eyes rested on them for a moment longer before he turned toward the war table. Was Crow's imagination playing tricks on him, or had Saladin been staring at the chain around his neck? _Memory of Jolder._ Lady Jolder wasn't a historical figure to him; she had been his sworn companion, bound to him by the same web of oaths that now linked him to Rue. Crow's whole body tensed. In his mind's eye, he saw Saladin seize hold of the chain and snap it in two with a forceful yank, telling him how unworthy he was to wear it all the while.

_Nobody's going to take anything off you,_ Glint said. His presence was a gentle warmth in Crow's chest, curled up just underneath his heart. _We're safe here._

That much was debatable. Rue hadn't moved yet; her eyes were back on him. He tried to convey _I'm all right_ to her through the mask. Warranted or not, concern was up there with pity on the list of feelings he _didn't_ want to induce in her. He tried to think about something else, like whether Osiris had taken the advice he'd sputtered at yesterday and spent the night with Saint. Inevitably, that segued into other thoughts he probably shouldn't be entertaining before a full series of missions. _I have my own room now._ The concept still hadn't quite sunk in; he'd spent all of the last rest period wide awake, burning through his own Light to stay alert and half-expecting someone to burst through the door. He had lived his entire life in fear of observation. Every kiss he and Rue shared had been stolen, tempered by the risk of discovery or attack. Now, though...

He stole a glance at her, ignoring Glint's lighthearted threat to tweak other hormone levels as well. Even after all they'd been through together, he hadn't quite got rid of the internal voice that told him he was being presumptuous. It took countless forms – Spider's clicking laughter, Guardians snarling their rage and revulsion right into his face, the clear discomfort in Rue's own voice when they'd first met – but the closing question was always the same: _Why would she want you? Why would anyone, assuming they weren't a Ghost with no choice in the matter?_ Not even the look she gave him in return was quite enough to silence it.

As if by mutual agreement, their Ghosts materialised as they headed for the table. Roj hovered alongside Crow for a couple of paces, alighted on his shoulder, and then rose into the air again, as quick and light as a bird. Without needing to look, Crow felt Glint do the same to Rue. The brief moment of contact set his head spinning. He'd thought he understood what it meant to touch someone else's Ghost, but that instinctual knowledge didn't compare to experiencing it first-hand. Her Light had left an impression on his own, like a tiny hotspot in his soul. Brushing his awareness over it left him giddy again. He didn't dare glance at her, feeling overwhelmed enough as it was.

Much to his surprise, Saladin didn't reprimand them for dawdling. He didn't comment on it at all. Crow was still mulling that over when Osiris walked in. Only a trained eye would have noticed that some of the feathers on his outfit were askew; Crow, who was in possession of such an eye, smirked at him. Osiris' return glare was diluted by a poorly-concealed yawn. When he looked at Rue, she was biting her lip. She channelled the highly unprofessional laughter she was suppressing into a smile, which she directed at him.

As much as he feared jinxing it, Crow couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope for the day ahead. After all, his first morning at work could have gone worse.

**Author's Note:**

> WEAR YOUR MASK, CROW. PLEASE.
> 
> Title yoinked from 'I'm Not Your Hero' by Tegan and Sara. Thank you for reading! ♥


End file.
